


Baby

by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)



Series: Sterek A-Z Challenge [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cuddling, Derek humiliation, M/M, Stiles is done with your shit Scott, Stiles tries not to hold it against him, baby talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-10-17 02:16:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10584336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wasterella/pseuds/isthatbloodonhisshirt
Summary: “And you calledmehere to deal with this instead of Deaton because…” Stiles trailed off, giving Scott the opportunity to fill in the end of that hanging sentence.“Well, Deaton’s kind of out of town right now.”“So, naturally, the next most qualified person is me. Of course. Why didn’t I think of that?”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Teen Wolf (c) Jeff Davis

Stiles stood just beyond the door, eyes closed while he massaged his temples, struggling to keep his anger in check. Scott was shifting his weight beside him, and Stiles was almost willing to bet he was a little nervous.

Letting out a slow breath, and somehow managing to not completely lose it, he opened his eyes. Dropping his hands back to his sides, he shifted his gaze to Scott.

“So let me get this straight,” he said slowly, trying to be as calm as possible. “You and Derek went out without bringing backup to track a magic user.”

“Yup.”

“You caught up to them, managed to immobilize them, and seal away their powers.”

“Yup.”

“During the sealing process, there’s actually a spell coded _into_  the sealing that effectively erases select parts of the magic user’s memory, so once it’s complete, they have no idea who they are or what they did.”

“Yup.”

“But a split second before that happened, Derek got hit by some kind of magical spell.”

“Yup.”

“Right. And you called _me_  here to deal with this instead of Deaton because…” He trailed off, giving Scott the opportunity to fill in the end of that hanging sentence.

“Well, Deaton’s kind of out of town right now.”

“So, naturally, the next most qualified person is me. Of course. Why didn’t I think of that?”

They both turned back to Derek when there was the loud slap of a hand against the ground. The fully grown man was sitting in the middle of the floor with his jean-clad legs splayed and toys strewn haphazardly around him. He was scowling at the pair of them, as if offended they weren’t giving him their undivided attention.

Reaching out two large hands, he made nonsensical noises and began opening and closing his fists towards them, imitating a child doing the “grabby hands” motion.

Stiles turned to level Scott with a murderous glare. At least Scott looked like he felt guilty about it, but he wasn’t the one who stepped forward. Muttering curses under his breath and hoping Derek picked up _all_  his bad habits, he stomped across the floor and crouched in front of the giant baby-man.

Literally. Derek’s brain seemed to have reverted to childhood.

“What?” he asked, rather harshly. The anger he felt almost immediately vanished when he saw the startled look on Derek’s face. Then it slowly shifted, lower lip trembling and eyes watering. “No! No, no, no! No, it’s okay!” Stiles fell onto his butt beside Derek and grabbed a toy at random. “Look at the fun little duckie! Look at the duckie! Let’s play with Duckie!”

Derek sniffed loudly, and his lower lip was still trembling, but at least he hadn’t started bawling. He reached out one hand for the toy Stiles was playing with and began to make quacking noises. When he squeezed it too hard, the toy let out a loud squeak, which seemed to delight Derek because he began squeezing it over and over to continue the obnoxious noise.

“We got him dog toys,” Scott said in answer to Stiles’ inquiring look. The expression that followed showed he wasn’t impressed. “We panicked!” Scott insisted.

“Do you know _anything_  about taking care of a baby?”

“No, that’s why I called you.”

Right. That again. How could he have forgotten?

Sighing, Stiles reached out for another toy, wiggling it in front of Derek in hopes he would find that one more entertaining. He grabbed at it, but discarded it quickly when it became clear it didn’t squeak. He returned to Duckie, whom Stiles now considered a mortal enemy.

Derek twisted around awkwardly until he was on his knees beside Stiles, then he started crawling into his lap, almost sending him sprawling at the sheer size of him.

“Whoa! Okay! Getting crushed, here! Scott. Scott!”

His supposed rescuer was too busy laughing and taking pictures while Derek settled himself in Stiles’ lap. Derek’s ass was planted on Stiles’ upper thighs, sitting horizontally and staring at Duckie while he made the toy squeak. Stiles was not amused, and positive his legs would fall asleep in no time.

“A little help?” Stiles demanded.

Scott took two more pictures before pocketing his phone and moving over to the pair of them. He grabbed Derek under the armpits and started to lift him off Stiles when he screamed.

It startled Scott so badly that he dropped him back on top of Stiles, Derek beginning to cry and clinging to Stiles’ shirt. The two younger men shared a look and all the blood drained from Stiles’ face.

“You have _got_  to be kidding me.”

The grin that slowly crept across Scott’s face suggested otherwise. “You’re his mommy.”

“Say that again, Scotty, and I’ll murder you.” Stiles pointed an angry finger at his friend, ignoring the man twice his size attempting to curl into a ball on top of him, hands clutching at his shirt desperately while he continued to cry.

“This is hilarious. I mean, it’s terrible and we need to fix this, but it’s hilarious.”

“Can’t you _call_  Deaton or something?” Stiles demanded, one hand moving to rub at Derek’s back when the crying began to grow in volume. The soothing circles he was making along the other’s covered skin seemed to slowly calm him down. Obviously he wasn’t being taken away from his “mommy” so he was calming down somewhat.

“I can try again, but he hasn’t answered the last ten times I’ve called.”

“What about Argent? He’s run across weird things before, he’s gotta have something to help us out with.”

Scott shook his head. “Chris is visiting Isaac. He’s been radio-silent for days. Probably wants to enjoy a real vacation, for once.”

“Well, we have to do _something_!” Stiles insisted. “My legs are going to fall off if he stays there all night. And I don’t change diapers!”

“Well, there’s one person we can try,” Scott said, rubbing the back of his head. “Satomi could probably help. Maybe. If she’s willing.”

Stiles stared at Scott while Derek began to play with two of his toys in his own lap. Duckie was currently bouncing and squeaking up a storm around another toy that Stiles decided to dub Hammy. It was a hamburger-shaped toy that, thankfully, did _not_  squeak.

“Beg if you have to,” Stiles said. “I’m serious. He can’t stay like this.”

Scott still looked amused, but he promised to do what he could and left the loft, leaving Stiles alone with a giant baby.

 _Literally_!

That was going to stop being funny soon.

Stiles didn’t know what to do. He’d babysat before—he was a poor, desperate teenager, of course he’d babysat—but this was different. For one thing, all those kids had been _kids_ , not babies, so it was easier to entertain them.

For another thing, they were freaking _kids_! None of them were grown men with their minds wiped clean! He couldn’t even pick Derek up if he wanted to, and he was _really_  concerned about his legs.

Not to mention it was very difficult for him to enjoy the man he was _painfully_  attracted to sitting in his lap playing with dog toys and seeming thoroughly thrilled by them. He was still squeaking Duckie, but at least Hammy was helping to keep Stiles sane for the moment.

And then he hit Hammy against the ground and it squeaked.

Derek and Stiles both froze.

“Oh no,” Stiles said.

With good reason, apparently, because a second later Derek was hitting Hammy repeatedly against the floor, forcing it to squeak over and over, while still squeezing Duckie in his other hand.

Stiles had to wonder if this was punishment for how annoying he always was. Not that he was annoying on purpose, but maybe this was some higher power going, “See? See this? This is how annoying you are! Have a taste of your own medicine, Stiles!”

He was still contemplating what he may have done to anger someone upstairs when Derek let out what was unmistakably a giggle of glee.

There was once a time Stiles thought he would’ve loved to hear Derek giggle, because it would be the most hilarious things in the world. Now that he’d actually heard it, he wanted to find his former self and hit him in the head. Preferably with a bat, so as to ensure he didn’t ever have any stupid ideas of this nature ever again.

Because Derek giggling was not hilarious, or adorable.

Derek giggling was terrifying.

Giggling should not be coming out of Derek Hale. That was just not cool. This whole _thing_  was not cool.

He managed to sit there for an additional three minutes before deciding he couldn’t do it anymore. He was losing feeling in his legs, and his entire body was vibrating with the need to _do_  something.

“Okay, buddy. Come on. Up we get.” It was hard coaxing Derek off him without being able to pick him up, but he eventually grabbed Duckie from his hand and threw it across the room. He’d been hoping for Derek to act like a dog, for whatever reason, and chase after it.

Instead, Derek started crying. And not cute, silent crying. It was gross, loud sobbing.

“Okay, okay! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it! Look! Look at Hammy! Here’s Hammy, Hammy squeaks!” He held Hammy up and squeezed it hard to make it squeak. That earned him Derek slapping the toy out of his hand.

He was positive he now had broken fingers, pain sparking through his hand. He bit back a curse, not wanting Derek to pick up any bad language because everyone would know who he’d gotten it from. The last thing he needed was for Deaton to show up and insist he was corrupting a vulnerable Derek.

Though to be fair, he was sitting on him while being twice his size and had probably just broken his hand, so a little swearing shouldn’t be a big deal.

He didn’t know if a part of Derek was still _aware_  in there, or if maybe his Werewolfness was providing some guidance, but after about a minute, Derek’s sobs turned into quiet hiccups and his red-rimmed eyes were locked on Stiles’ hand.

Derek had probably smelled pain, or whatever other weird emotions wolves could apparently smell. He was staring at Stiles as if he knew he’d hurt him, but didn’t fully understand what that meant.

Stiles was just happy he’d stopped crying. Though he was still crushing his legs, but one victory at a time.

It was a battle, but he managed to coax Derek off him, the older man rolling slightly on the floor before getting on his hands and knees and making his way across the floor towards where Duckie was. Stiles stood and shook out his legs, then went to run cold water over his aching hand.

He knew the exact moment Derek had located the toy, because the squeaking started up again.

This was ridiculous! Derek couldn’t stay like this, they had to fix him!

“Calm down,” he insisted to himself, shutting off the water and clenching his hand into a fist. It still hurt, but it obeyed his movements, so it probably wasn’t broken. That was a relief, he needed that hand. “Deaton or Satomi or Argent will figure this out, and they’ll fix it. Derek will go back to being a giant, grumpy Werewolf and I can go back to pining in peace without him crawling all over my lap.”

Forcing himself to take a deep breath, he closed his eyes, took a moment to compose himself, then turned and headed over to where Derek was playing with Duckie. He picked up another toy on his way there, then sat down cross-legged in front of him and began to play with him.

It was fun for a little while, because Stiles was very much a kid at heart, but Derek wouldn’t stop squeaking the stupid duck and Stiles wished he hadn’t picked the damn toy up first! But, what was done was done, so he tried to make the best of it.

He checked his phone periodically for messages from Scott, but Derek was extremely unhappy when Stiles wasn’t giving him his full attention so he tried to minimize checking it.

So, they played, Stiles made Derek some food—probably not the most nutritious since he had to be careful what it was—and then had deemed it late enough for a child to go to bed. Getting him ready for that was _not_  an experience Stiles was particularly happy about.

First of all, he’d had to haul Derek around the apartment, which was virtually impossible without Derek’s assistance. Thankfully, he seemed to think Stiles was playing a game and ended up going where Stiles wanted him to. The only upside was that Derek seemed to remember general potty training, because he hadn’t shit or pissed himself, which was a huge relief.

“You know,” Stiles said, breathing hard and wincing while holding his side, staring down at Derek who was happily sitting on the toilet with his pants and boxers around his ankles, “when I told people I wanted to worship your dick, this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

Figured he’d get to see Derek’s cock and it was while helping him sit down to take a piss. Story of his life, really.

They got Derek finished up in the bathroom and Stiles washed his hands thoroughly, even though there had been minimal touching of the dick. He wasn’t disgusted about it, it was just weird to know that he was seriously attracted to someone who was currently a child in his head.

Getting Derek into bed had been even harder than getting him to the bathroom. He seemed to understand the concept of bedtime, and turned into a little shit.

Well, a giant shit, given he was huge and all.

He had quickly realized Stiles couldn’t move him without help, so he’d planted his ass on the ground and began throwing a tantrum whenever Stiles tried to drag him across the floor to the bed. Eventually, he gave up and just turned off the lights, throwing a spare blanket over Derek’s shoulders.

Stiles himself wasn’t going to sleep on the floor, so he took his jeans off and climbed into bed. He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep with the uncomfortable pants, but he’d kept his shirt and underwear on, getting beneath the covers and resting his head on the pillow.

It wasn’t _his_  pillow, so he doubted he’d get much sleep, but he was damn well going to try.

Or, he’d been about to, until Derek started crying again. It was the gross sobbing once more and Stiles wanted to bang his head repeatedly against something. Sighing explosively, he threw the blankets off himself and wandered over to where Derek was huddled on the floor.

“What’s wrong?” Stiles asked, crouching in front of him. “What’s the matter?”

Derek just kept crying, looking between Stiles and the bed.

“Do you wanna go to bed?”

He didn’t know why he was asking, because Derek’s brain was a baby’s and he wouldn’t understand, but he was surprised when Derek wiped at his nose with one hand and nodded, still crying but refraining from the gross sobbing.

“Really? You’re gonna behave and come to bed?”

A sniffle and another nod.

“Okay, let’s go then.” He was about to try and grab at him to help drag him across the floor but Derek slowly stood on shaky legs, holding the spare blanket in one hand, and shuffled towards the bed, holding the bottom of Stiles’ shirt with the other.

Frowning, Stiles just let himself be lead, waiting for Derek to crawl onto the bed and get under the covers. The spare blanket had been dropped on the floor, as if it had been dragged to the bed unintentionally.

Shrugging, Stiles got beneath the covers once more and pulled the blankets over them. Before he could even start to get comfortable, Derek curled into his side, attempting to turn himself into a ball against Stiles.

For a few seconds, Stiles did nothing more than lie there with his right arm awkwardly above his head. Deciding it was too uncomfortable, he lowered it to Derek’s back carefully and rubbed it soothingly.

He was fairly certain Derek had fallen asleep, which was a good thing, but now Stiles was stuck lying in bed, without the ability to do anything. If he moved, he risked waking up Derek.

Sighing, he turned and attempted to reach out his other hand, straining and shifting as little as possible until his fingers touched the edge of his pants. Managing to get them up onto the bed with a silent cheer of triumph, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked it for messages.

Still nothing.

Sighing, he opened one of his apps and began playing a game one-handed, the other still rubbing smooth circles on Derek’s back. When his battery began to die, he set the phone down on his stomach and stared at the ceiling. When he felt sleep tugging at the edges of his consciousness, he tried to let it take him, but it still took an extra hour or so.

He was startled awake with a snore when he felt his phone vibrate against his stomach, a little annoyed at being woken since it would take him _forever_  to fall asleep again. Grabbing at it, he lifted it and swiped the bottom to check his messages.

It was from Scott, finally, and he opened it to read.

His blood ran cold instantly.

 **[Scott]**  
Sorry it took so long, but good news!  
**[Scott]**  
Satomi and I were still looking through some of her books when Deaton called  
**[Scott]**  
I explained the gist of what happened, and he said that those spells are used to incapacitate someone for a short period of time  
**[Scott]**  
He said that the spell usually lasts only a few hours, and that Derek should’ve been about three or four years old mentally after about two hours.  
**[Scott]**  
Given it’s been almost nine, Deaton said he should be completely back to normal by now.

Stiles slowly turned his head to regard to slumbering Werewolf beside him. His expression was peaceful, and unguarded. This was probably the most relaxed Derek had ever been in his life since the fire.

He really didn’t want to still be there when adult Derek woke up, but any movement on his part risked him waking up. Still, he had to _try_ , because no way was he going to stay there after what they’d just been through! What if Derek didn’t remember what had happened and wondered why Stiles was in his bed?

Or worse: what if he _did_  remember?!

Why had Stiles said anything about his dick aloud?!

He was still debating whether or not he should risk leaving when the body beside his shifted. He tensed instantly, Derek’s eyes blinking open slowly. He seemed to take a second to recognize where he was and who he was against, but Stiles knew when he’d figured it out because he tensed almost as much as Stiles.

Lowering his gaze, he caught Derek’s eye and the two of them stared at one another for a long, uncomfortable minute of silence.

“Tell anyone about what happened, and I’ll make you wish you’d never met me.”

“Are you asking me, _me_ , Stiles Stilinski, to _lie_?” Stiles tried to downplay his terror at discovering Derek remembered it all by joking.

It backfired.

“If you don’t want me to tell Scott you want my dick, you’re going to keep what happened tonight to yourself.”

Silence for a moment.

“Fair.”

“Good. Now lie still, I’m trying to sleep.”

And then Derek settled against him once more and closed his eyes, Stiles’ mouth opening to say something before realizing he had no idea what to say.

His heart slammed against his ribcage, but Derek didn’t comment on it. He just kept his cheek pressed against Stiles’ chest and seemed to attempt to go back to sleep.

Stiles felt like Derek made a lot more sense as a baby. At least the baby talked to him, even if most of it was nonsensical.

He was _definitely_  not getting any sleep tonight.

**END.**


End file.
